


clinging like webs spread overnight

by crookedspoon



Series: Scripted Fantasies [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Community: femslash100, Community: ladiesbingo, F/F, Food, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carrie pays her friend a visit, knowing she'll need some comfort food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. what is it anyway to exist

**Author's Note:**

> For "Alternative Professions" at ladiesbingo round 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for #13 "food" at femslash100's drabble cycle: kinks.

Harley curls up in a vain attempt to alleviate the tension in her lower back, too miserable to get up for painkillers. Note to self: next time, stash 'em within reach.

Burrowing deeper into her blankets, she waits for death to claim her already.

An insistent doorbell rudely interrupts her wallowing in self-pity. Harley sneers and drags herself upright, legs barely supporting her. Where's Jonny when she needs a butler? If this is another sales rep, she's gonna rip out their throat.

At the door, the sun outmatches her own baleful glare, earning Harley a blinding headache and amplifying her foul mood.

"You look awful, dear." The visitor's voice resembles that of a glockenspiel, bright and musical.

"I feel worse," Harley growls, gaze alighting on hair glittering like rubies and a smile so radiant it clears her face of angry clouds. "Or," she corrects dreamily, temple leaning against the doorjamb "better now that you're here."

"That's so sweet," Carrie chuckles. "Speaking of. Lyla mentioned you weren't booked this week, so I knew you'd need one of these."

Carrie motions to the box she's holding, filled with chocolate fudge and other baked goods.

"God, they smell _so_ good," Harley moans, inhaling their warm aroma. "You're an angel, Cupid."

Harley curls her fingers around Carrie's, dazed expression turning devious as she eases the box from her grasp.

"I'll take this then," she purrs with a flash of teeth and slams the door into Carrie's face. 

One, she said? Harley needs them all.


	2. all is remote from here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for #30 "worship" at femslash100's drabble cycle: kinks.

Carrie watches the door fall shut with amusement. _Girl can't leave off the antics._ She gives Harley a minute.

Thirty seconds in, the door cracks open and Carrie is yanked inside. There's a weight against her buttocks and front; Harley's on her knees, arms wrapped around Carrie's waist, and burrowing her face into the sliver of skin beneath her top.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," the girl babbles, pressing kisses up Carrie's navel, "your brownies are the most delicious things on the planet."

Carrie smiles and pats Harley's knotted hair. "It's fine. I like the excuse for baking, you know."

Aghast, Harley peeks up at her, face half-buried beneath Carrie's top. "Why'd you need an excuse?! Bring your goods to me if you don't want them."

"And contribute to the pounds on your hips? I'm not sure your fans would appreciate that."

Harley grins. "Special interest."

Carrie's world teeters as the girl slumps to the floor like a puddle of goo, dragging Carrie with her.

"Cramps," she answers Carrie's frown.

"I take it you have no special interest shoots booked this time around."

Harley shakes her head. "And glad for it. Couldn't have popped enough pills to make it the least bit comfortable." Hugging Carrie close, she murmurs, "'sides, I've got somethin' better to do now."

"Eating cookies while I make us some tea?"

Harley nods, brushing strands of hair from Carrie's forehead. Uncharacteristically gentle, she cups Carrie's face. Breath tickles her lips. "And lovin' the freck out of you for doin' all that."

**Author's Note:**

> Titles from the poem "From Sickbed Shores" by Adrienne Rich.


End file.
